


wrap my arms around you (and snap every bone in your back)

by CallicoKitten



Series: put your name and blood on everyone and make the evening news [1]
Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Smut, Obsession, Unhealthy Relationships, i think we can all agree im beyond saving here, though this is pretty tame, warning for lex luthor (consider yourselves warned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:18:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6862720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex's thought process goes a little like this:</p><p>Bruce Wayne is rich. Richer than Lex is, definitely, richer than Lex will ever be, probably. Bruce Wayne is also undeniably handsome and usually, that is not something Lex concerns himself with. </p><p>But more than both of those inconsequential factors is this: there is something about Bruce Wayne that does not add up and Lex is infatuated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wrap my arms around you (and snap every bone in your back)

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, i don't know. i'm a lost cause.
> 
> title is from i want you by summer camp
> 
>  
> 
> (i borrowed the max lord from supergirl rather than the comics)

Lex's thought process goes a little like this:

Bruce Wayne is rich. Richer than Lex is, definitely, richer than Lex will ever be, probably. He wears his money like a second skin, suits with ties that cost more than most people's homes, cars made specially for him, super models and actresses and exotic princesses on each arm. It suits him. It looks _good_ on him.

Bruce Wayne is also undeniably handsome and usually, that is not something Lex concerns himself with. He notes it as a passing detail rather than a defining characteristic but Bruce Wayne's handsomeness is legendary and had girls and boys from all walks of life falling at his feet for the chance at basking in his glory. And there is something in Lex that would like to triumph where all others failed; there is something that appeals to him about grasping the unattainable.

But more than both of those inconsequential factors is this: there is something about Bruce Wayne that does not add up and Lex is _infatuated._

\---

He is just a boy when he meets Bruce Wayne.

Bruce is twenty-one, the collar of his shirt is too tight on his throat. He has been in charge of his parent's company since he turned eighteen, his father tells him. His parents died when he was a boy.

He shakes Bruce Wayne's hand because his father tells him to and sits quietly in the corner while the meet goes on.

Thinking back on it he can see the irritation plain in Bruce's face, the incredulity that Alexander Luthor would bring his child to a business meeting.

"His mother died recently," he hears his father explain in a low grumble. "Junior hasn't been the same since."

The annoyance fades a little and Bruce does not spare him a second glance but Lex cannot stop starring. Bruce Wayne is alone, has no father to look to for guidance, has no father to hold him back and it is _working._

It is _hope._

\---

The thing is, Bruce Wayne: Billionaire Play-Boy is neat. It's believable. It's _expected._

He and Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen and fucking Maxwell Lord belong to a particular subset of humanity, the young, rich, only son. They are _supposed_ to play the part, to make a fool of themselves for the tabloids, act like cautionary tales.

No one else will bat an eye when Bruce Wayne breaks his leg skiing, when he vanishes for two weeks to spelunk in Georgia, when he turns up to balls and benefits and political rallies with neat little rows of stitches and handsome bruises.

(And Bruce Wayne bruises well. His skin is lightly tanned, smooth and healthy, bruises blossom well across it, purple fading out to blue and green on cheek bones, rough red knuckles, gold and yellow on his jaw fading out into deep red.

Lex has always known he was not a godly man. Godly men do not find themselves weak in the knees at the thought of fists meeting flesh, at the crunch of bone on bone.

But God is dead, if he ever existed or else he's as corrupt as every man, woman and child that make up the parties Lex is forced to attend because of his name.)

Bruce is careful not to turn up bruised and battered too often; he absconds with fashion models, takes impromptu trips to Geneva and Dubai and a hundred other places that Lex can never find a trace of him in and _oh,_ has he looked.

This was back before he had decided that there was something _interesting_ about Bruce Wayne. Back when his desire to bed Bruce Wayne was purely out of boredom and a vague desire for some black mail to hold over the Prince of Gotham's head. Bruce had skipped out on a Gotham mayoral ball, his manservant had sent his apologies and some of the higher ups from Wayne Enterprises spluttered out weak excuses and assured everyone that Bruce would have _loved_ to attend but something important had come up.

That something important was apparently a getaway in Thailand with a three time Oscar winning actress.

Lex had looked. And looked. And looked. And _looked._

And he had found nothing. Zip. Na-da.

Neither hide nor hair of Gotham's favourite fuck-up.

And Lex had thought _huh._ Bruce Wayne was _tricky._

He'd always known Bruce was far cleverer than he let on, he'd always been slightly perplexed that no one else seemed to. It was so _obvious._ Bruce would laugh, carelessly, champagne in hand but his eyes were sharp.

So Lex had looked harder. Lex had dug.

And finding nothing Lex had begun to pester Mr Alfred Pennyworth.

There was of course, no reason for Lex to have Bruce's home number and Alfred noted this in a rather dour tone and requested that he _please use Master Wayne's business line in the future._

And Lex had promised he would and called back the next day. And the next. And the next.

_I am so sorry, Mr Pennyworth - should that be Mr? Is there a title for menservants? Should I call you Alfred? **Anyway,** Mr Pennyworth - Alfred - I'm really sorry to be a pest but it is **imperative** that I talk to Mr Wayne. Wheels are a- turnin'! _

It suits Lex to be a pest sometimes. To be irritating. _Persistent._ No one looks at him too closely if they think he's just another bratty child, not used to hearing no. If they do look his way it's to roll their eyes.

Alexander Luthor Jr: embarrassment.

Lex plays the clown. Lex plays the wunderkind. Lex plays the room like a fiddle and everyone responds.

And he realises, after the Thailand incident that Bruce Wayne does too.

He turns up at Bruce's mansion the day he hears he's back in town. Alfred is polite but his eyes are switchblades and his tone could cut steel.

There are blue flowers in the kitchen, meant for tea Lex presumes, that can only be found on mountains in the Himalayas. They don't travel well, they must have been picked fresh.

It's possible Bruce had them flown in.

Bruce greets him with a well disguised limp. An injury in the hip area, Lex notes, perhaps a little higher, tugging at his side.

His hands are rough. His knuckles are slightly raw.

"Fight Club?" Lex asks, with a smirk.

Bruce chuckles, self-consciously. Looks down at his knuckles, takes his left hand in his right and rubs them gently. He had hoped Lex wouldn't notice. Others probably wouldn't. "Ah, not quite. I had a rather _ill advised_ un-gloved session with my punching bag. I'm sure you know how it is?"

Hang-dog expression, weak I'm-trying-here-smile. He wants Lex to think things went badly in Thailand. That he and Oscar Winner had a falling out. Lex plays along, "Trouble in paradise?"

"Something like that," Bruce grins.

It's interesting because Lex had 'run in' to Oscar Winner before dropping by on the Wayne's - or the _Wayne_ \- and she had told him over mimosas and pancakes that things had gone _just so well_ and Bruce was _the perfect gentleman, really_ and that they'd parted on good terms.

It's possible that Oscar Winner and Bruce had different feelings about their parting but there's _something_ that makes Lex pause.

\---

Enter the Gotham Bat.

It's funny at first. Gotham's seedy underbelly being terrorised by a man in a cape and bat-ears, drug dealers trussed up like Thanksgiving's turkeys outside of police stations and murderers running piss-pants scared back to jail in fear of _The Bat!_

_The Bat! Eek!_

(Lex would pick something more intimidating, he thinks. A scorpion or a spongiform encephalopathies or one of the eldritch abominations from the deep. Maybe he'd just shave his head and speak with a harsh, German edge.)

He and Mercy spend idol evenings coming up with identities for him. Someone rich, certainly, no one else could afford the sort of tech they've seen captured on cell phones and CCTV. He could build it himself, certainly but he'd still need to purchase - or steal - the materials.

Lex spends a weekend drawing up specs for a Batmobile, figuring out the easiest materials to use, how it fits together, how it works so smoothly. He draws up a list, searches suppliers, realises no shipments have gone missing recently.

He's paying for his materials then.

Of course, Lex can't say with _certainty_ that he's looking for the right materials but given his track record with finding out things people don't want him to know, he'd say he's in with a good chance at being right.

He has to be physically fit - the Bat. Well trained. In a position that no one would become suspicious of repeated injuries.

If Lex hadn't already been _interested_ in Bruce Wayne he doubts the name would have crossed his mind.

Mercy dismisses him. Mercy says he's obsessed. Mercy isn't half as smart as she thinks she is and she doesn't know Bruce Wayne like Lex does.

(Of course, Lex can't say _with certainty_ that Bruce Wayne is the Gotham Bat but that's all part of the _fun._ )

And speaking of _knowing_ Bruce Wayne it's going _slowly_.

At first, Lex tries the drunk method. Drops clumsily obvious hints and pretends to be far drunker than he really is and Bruce is polite when he turns him down. The first few times he pretends he has no idea of Lex's intentions, not in an innocent way, in a _painfully_ oblivious way.

It's a subtle way of telling Lex to drop it, Lex thinks. If Bruce does know that Lex knows that Bruce knows exactly what Lex is trying to do and why. (It's dizzying. It's _dizzying._ And it's the most fun Lex has ever had.)

Then he moves on to gently turning him down.

But Lex is a pest. Lex is irritating. Lex is _persistent._

(And deep down, he knows Bruce Wayne is just as intrigued by him, as Lex is. Knows this because every now and again he feels Bruce's gaze fixed on him, roving over him and maybe Lex has been deliberately dropping his facade in Bruce's company, dangling his tangled webs in front of Bruce and waiting for him to bite.

There are days, evenings, where Bruce looks at him like he is a mystery to be solved and Lex is _enamoured._ )

And then there is this:

They are in National City, Maxwell Lord is launching a new phone or tablet or laptop or something so he has seen fit to throw a charity event to raise money for citywide free wifi. Lex is bitter because now when LexCorp comes out with whatever their equivalent is, it will appear that they are copying Lord Technologies. That and the fact that Lex has yet to find someone he dislikes more keenly than Max _fucking_ Lord.

Lex finds himself next to Bruce Wayne who seems to share Lex's opinion of Lord. They drink, Lex flirts. Bruce _bites_ and Lex finds himself dragged out of the ballroom into an office or _something_ and shoved to his knees.

Lex is used to being the one calling the shots in any and all _indiscretions_ (and there haven't been many, it is not something he is usually _interested_ in at all) but this could work. He watches through hooded eyes as Bruce Wayne loses control above him and it is nothing short of a _revelation._

Bruce hefts up by the front of his shitty t-shirt, kisses his cum off of Lex's tongue and sucks a hickey into Lex's throat.

 _Mine,_ it says, when Lex examines it later in the mirror. He watches it spread and fade over the next few days, presses on it, runs his fingers across it, _obsesses_ over it.

 _Yes,_ Lex thinks.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i kind of want to write something more substantial for these assholes but i have no idea what. like maybe a post bvs story or something.
> 
> so uh, if you've got any ideas hit me with them maybe


End file.
